


Don't Leave Me Here Alone

by buckydarling



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Staron if you squint???, Torture, not too graphic?, sue me they're kinda cute, there is a depressing lack of sambucky in this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:09:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckydarling/pseuds/buckydarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Bucky need to learn to get along. Steve is 1000% done. Wanda is very wise. Cute things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Leave Me Here Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr prompt response! This got waaaay out of hand. First time writing Sambucky! They're so cuTE.  
> yay.

“Barnes, I swear on my dead grandmother, if you toss my damn running shoes on the floor _one more time_ -”

“OH, I’m _sorry_ , Wilson, I forgot, your _precious_ sneakers need to be on their little perch by the door. Want me to polish them for you while I’m at it?”

Sam huffed, storming through the foyer into the kitchen. “No, Barnes, I just want you to stop leaving your clutter all over this damn apartment!”

Bucky gaped at him. “ _My_ clutter? _They’re your shoes_!”

“And they weren’t _clutter_ until you left them there!” Sam grabbed a mug and the coffeepot.

Bucky grabbed his own mug and gestured. “C’mon, Birdman, that’s your second cup, I aint had any coffee yet.”

Sam looked him straight in the eyes and poured the rest of the contents of the pot into his mug, letting it overflow onto the floor.

“ _Wilson, what the actual fuck_ -”

“Gentlemen!” They both straightened up as Steve entered the kitchen. He surveyed the scene, not looking altogether surprised, just tired. “Look, I know you both _despise_ each other, for reasons I _still_ don’t entirely understand, but can you please,” he said, rubbing a hand across his face, “ _please,_ give it a rest.”

Steve pointed a finger at Sam. “ _You_ are gonna clean up this stupid mess and then go out and buy another bag of coffee grounds.” Sam set down the sticky mug, grumbling, and grabbed a towel. Bucky smirked.

“And _you,_ ” Steve snapped, whirling around to point at Bucky, “are gonna pick up the damn shoes, because you were the one who left them there, and then you’re gonna clean up the rest of your stupid _clutter_ all over this apartment!” Bucky narrowed his eyes and practically stomped out of the kitchen.

Clint stumbled in and looked at the puddle Sam was mopping up on the floor. “Aw, coffee, no...”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Runs always helped to ease Sam’s frustration. Ever since the coffee incident, he and Barnes had been almost completely silent around each other. Everyone in the house was tiptoeing around them, like setting one off would cause the both of them to spontaneously combust. So that morning, Sam had pulled on his running shoes (on their rack by the door, he was satisfied to see) and gone for a jog in the woods, intent on being free of Barnes for at least a half-hour.

Until he heard footsteps behind him at what could only be described as super-soldier speed, and he knew Steve was out buying groceries.

“On your right,” Bucky smirked, flashing past Sam in a pair of sweats and one of Steve’s shirts and hooking his foot behind Sam’s ankle.

“What the- _Barnes_!” He spluttered, flying almost face-first on the fresh earthen path, dirt and mulch flying in all directions. Bucky slowed to a stop, hands on his knees, laughing hysterically. 

“Shoulda seen your face!” He crowed. “Eat _shit,_ Wilson!”

Sam pushed himself up slowly and deliberately, brushing the mulch off of his hands and knees before looking Bucky straight in the eyes.

“You’re dead meat, Barnes.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped.

Steve came back to find Sam fifteen feet in the air, wings extended, dangling Bucky by his metal arm. Steve dropped the grocery bags and sighed. Scott whipped out his phone and took a picture.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Steve. Steve, _no.”_

“You’re not allowed to just _do that_ -”

“You think I wanna be stuck around this dump with _him_ for _three weeks_ -”

“And you just drop this on us with _no warning_ -”

“Seriously, man, you’re _leaving tomorrow_ and you didn’t tell us till now-”

“Steve, godamnit, put your phone down!”

Steve grinned and put the device down, looking at Bucky and Sam’s equally frustrated faces. “Sorry, this is just the first time I’ve ever seen you two agree on something since we moved in.”

Bucky gaped at him, then sighed. “Whatever, dumbass. That’s not the point. You’re leaving us alone. _Us._ For _three weeks_.”

Steve sighed, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Look, it’s not like I want to. Coulson called from the field with a mission two hours ago, and from his tone, it didn’t sound like it was optional.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “It’s a covert operation, meaning I can’t have any contact with you guys. Three weeks, and then I get time off. But they need me to come in for this one.” Steve looked them over. “Clint and Wanda and Scott will be around, but they have their own lives, too. Think you can manage not to kill each other while I’m gone?”

Sam side-eyed Bucky, then groaned. “Fine.” He pointed at Steve, jabbing him in the chest. “But I’m doing this for you, Big Guy. Not him.” He jabbed Bucky in the arm, probably harder than necessary, but the ex-assassin ignored him.

Steve gave a weak grin, like he couldn’t wait to get out of the house for three weeks. “That’s the spirit.”

Later, as Steve was sitting on top of his bag waiting for the quinjet, Bucky walked up and cornered him. “You can’t do this to me, Stevie.” He plopped down on the floor and let his head fall in Steve’s lap. Steve looked down at him, a sympathetic expression on his face.

“Look, Buck, I’m sorry, but I can’t get out of this one. You know I’d stay if I felt like I had any other choice.” He ran a hand through Bucky’s hair, and Bucky sighed. 

“I still get nightmares, Stevie,” he whispered quietly. “Who’s gonna help me out when you’re not around to pull me out of them?”

Steve slid off his bag and onto the floor, pulling Bucky into his chest. “You’re strong, okay?” He mumbled. “You’re strong as hell and I believe in you. You can do this without me. I’ll be back in three weeks.”

Bucky nodded. “Three weeks. You better come back.”

Steve smiled. “Has anything ever stopped me before?”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The morning after Steve left, Sam went for a run. Bucky didn’t follow him this time.

Wanda walked into the kitchen, barefoot with a cobalt shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She smiled softly. “Good morning, Bucky.”

He smiled. “Morning.” He held out the coffee pot. “Coffee?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m more of a tea person.” She took a mug and flicked the faucet upward to fill it with water. They stood in comfortable silence before she spoke.

“Bucky?”

“Yes, Wanda?”

“Why do you not like Sam?”

Bucky sighed. He set pushed himself up on the counter, legs dangling above the kitchen floor. “I don’t...”

“ _Bucky_.” He turned, and Wanda was smiling; a gentle, understanding smile. “You can trust me.”

He looked at the ceiling. “Ever since I got back...to myself, y’know? I’ll never be that guy, that Bucky, but I remember enough about him. About me.” He flexed his metal fingers. “And I know how close I was with Steve, and him with me; he was my best friend.” He huffed. “Guess he still is, but Sam...” Bucky shifted. “Sam, he just felt like a replacement, you know? Like Steve needed to have someone around while I wasn’t there.”

“And I love Steve; _God,_ even now, we’re closer than brothers, right? But I feel like, like, Sam’s still trying to be my replacement. And when I came back, I got jealous. Because Sam had become for Steve what I used to be like, and I was worried I didn’t have that position anymore. I _lived_ ,” Bucky said, almost a whisper, “to be Steve’s best friend. His right-hand man.” 

Wanda stirred her teabag in the steaming water, nimble fingers pinching the string. “You and Sam... you’re different people. You’re different to each other, and you’re different to Steve.” She looked up. “Steve needed a friend, because when he met Sam he thought you were gone.” She smiled simply. “Everyone needs friends, after all.”

She continued, “But Steve loved you -- loves you still -- in a way he will never love Sam.” She dropped the tea bag in the trash can. “And in the same way, and a different way, he loves Sam in a way he does not love you.” Wanda leaned against the counter and sipped her tea. “We all love each other in different ways, Bucky,” she murmured. “No two loves are the same.”

Bucky smiled, and felt strangely on the verge of tears. “You’re wise beyond your years. Anyone ever told you that?”

Wanda smiled, as if remembering something. “I’ve heard it said.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Steve was gone for three nights before Bucky had his first nightmare.

Sam woke up at two in the morning not to screams or muffled loud noises on the other side of the wall, but instead what Sam could only describe as the most heartbreaking crying he’d ever heard. Slipping out of bed, he tracked down the hall to Bucky’s room and, against his better judgement, opened the door. 

Bucky was twisted up in the far upper corner of the matress, his blankets tangled and forgotten, choking out sobs, his long hair splayed across his face. “Stop,” he whimpered, words becoming coherent. “I _can’t_... no more killing. Don’t make me.”

Sam Wilson’s heart broke then and there for Bucky Barnes, and any fear he had upon entering the room vanished. He tiptoed over to the bed and sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress, placing his hand on Bucky’s flesh arm. “Barnes? Bucky?” It felt strange, foreign, to say his first name.

Bucky started awake, fists unclenching, a ragged sort of noise escaping his mouth. “Sam?” It occured to Sam then that Bucky might not want him in here, that he might be embarrassed, and he prepared to get up and leave when Bucky spoke again. “ _Sam_.”

Before Sam knew what was happening, Bucky had both arms around his waist and his face buried in Sam’s shoulder. He’s shaking. Sam got over the shock and gingerly wrapped his free arm around Bucky, rubbing circles on his back until he felt some of the tension go away.

Neither of them knew how long they sat there after Bucky stopped shaking.

“Thank you,” Sam heard Bucky mumble into his shirt. 

“No problem, man.” Sam patted Bucky gently on the back. “You’re a soldier, y’know? Same as me. Happens to the best of us.”

He moved to go back to his room when Bucky’s grip tightened on his waist. He looked down quizzically, and Bucky flushed a little.

“Uh... I know this is weird, but after nightmares I can’t fall asleep if I’m alone in the room, and Steve usually stays with me but he’s not here and I-”

“Bucky.” Sam interjected. Bucky looked up at him, vulnerable. 

“I’ll sit in here with you, man, it’s alright.” Sam looked to the side. “I know the feeling.” 

So Sam sat with his back against the bed and read in the light coming from the crack underneath the door, and Bucky curled up under his blankets and slept.

Sam woke up the next morning slumped on the floor with Bucky’s blanket tucked carefully around him and the book he was reading marked by a dented index card, sitting on the nightstand. 

He wandered into the kitchen, and Bucky didn’t bring up the previous night over breakfast. So neither did Sam.

If anyone noticed the decrease in arguments as the week passed, they didn’t say anything. But Sam noticed Wanda smiling to herself a lot more when no one was looking.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As one week without Steve turned into two, there were more nightmares. Sam made it a habit to start bringing his own blankets into Bucky’s room. Bucky never offered the other half of the bed, and Sam never asked. He’d slept on worse places than hardwood floors on duty overseas, anyway, Bucky thought, and he never complained. 

There was this feeling, now, whenever Bucky looked at Sam, that he couldn’t quite identify and he couldn’t shake. It was just... not loathing. Bucky started to notice less Sam’s irritating qualities and more the good ones. Sam went running every morning no matter the weather, and told Wanda jokes to make her laugh, and somehow made the best coffee even though the grounds were storebought and the machine was automatic. His smile lit up his whole face. He kept a picture of Riley on his dresser and saluted it every morning, when he though no one could see. 

They still bickered, of course. But there wasn’t much animosity behind it anymore. There was an understanding that neither spoke of. They didn’t need to.

Then, one night, a week before Steve was due back, Sam showed up in one of Bucky’s nightmares. 

He was lying on the ground, covered in blood, metal wings crumpled and sparking underneath him. There was terror in his eyes. “You know me, Barnes,” he gasped. “Bucky!”

<Finish the job, Soldier>, a man growled in his ear, and Bucky held up his gun --

And woke up gasping, sitting upright in bed, tears streaming down his face.

It had been so many people, in that same dream. It’d been Steve, and the Commandos, and the face of every life Bucky had ever claimed as the Soldier, but it had _never_ been Sam. 

Bucky scrambled out of his blankets and moved down the hall to Sam’s room next door. Sam sat up when the door opened. “Bucky?” He whispered. “What’s wrong? You okay?” And Bucky couldn’t speak, because an inexplicable relief flooded over him; Sam was _here_ , Sam was _alive_.

Bucky dove onto the bed and wrapped his arm’s around Sam, shaking violently, trying to stop the flow of tears. Sam rubbed his back, making soothing circles with his hands. “You wanna talk about it?” He whispered.

Bucky didn’t move his face from where it was buried in Sam’s shoulder. “Same as the other nights,” he whispered. “Cept this time it was you on the ground.”

Sam stilled for a moment, then wrapped both arms tighter around Bucky and whispered, “You’d never do that.” He paused. “I trust you.”

Bucky sat up and looked at him. “You trust me?” He whispered, quietly.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I do.” He looked away. “You want me to walk you back to your room, or...”

Bucky shook his head once. “Could I... stay in here?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, man.”

When Bucky woke up the next morning pillowed on Sam’s arm, nose pressed into his collarbone, he knew Sam was already awake. Neither bothered to point it out. 

Eventually, Bucky slowly and carefully extracted himself and wandered into the kitchen to make breakfast. He leaned on the counter, palms drumming a meaningless rhythm as he watched the coffee maker buzz and hum and flash it’s little lights. He glanced back towards the bedroom door; Sam had fallen asleep again.

 _Sam._ Three weeks ago, Bucky had hated Sam. He’d wanted him gone. He’d wanted Steve back.

He still wanted Steve back, but as for Sam?

Well, Sam --

Sam stumbled out of his room and sauntered into the kitchen, hip-bumping Bucky playfully to reach the mug cabinets, and, well, as for what Bucky wanted to do about Sam, he figured the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach answered that question pretty well.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The day Steve was due back, they came.

Sam was lying out on the lawn, watching Bucky and Scott sparring playfully while Wanda read a book next to him. Clint was visiting his kids. It was a rare idyllic afternoon that Sam knew superheroes didn’t often get, so he leaned his head back and soaked up the sun, _enjoying._

Then he heard the helicopters.

Sam sat up and saw them; two lone black choppers, flying in what was _supposed_ to be restricted airspace. And they definitely weren’t S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Sam leapt up. “Wanda, get inside!” he shouted, waving his hands. Bucky tore the tape off his hands, his hair whipping in the wind as the choppers grew closer.

“Any idea who it could be?” he shouted at Sam over the noise of the blades, not taking his eyes off the sky. Scott ran towards the building, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Coulson.

“No idea!” Sam yelled back, before one of the choppers fired a weighted net.

Sam realized too late who they were aiming for.

The netting caught him by the left shoulder, dragging him to the ground. His chin smacked the hard-packed dirt beneath the grass, and he saw stars, his vision jarring. His head throbbed as he struggled to get up, finding that the net he was under was already being dragged towards the helicopter above. 

The second chopper fired a net at Bucky, catching his metal arm. “Barnes!” Sam cried, being dragged across the dirt as the copters began to rise. 

“Sam!” Bucky screamed back, forcing back the net and struggling to get across the grass, reaching out his hand. Sam scrabbled for Bucky’s hand, finding only grass and dirt, and he felt himself lifting off the ground, heard nothing but the chopper’s blade’s whirring and Bucky screaming his name as he dove for his hand and didn’t make it.

Everything was dark.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Steve jumped off the quinjet to find Bucky curled up in the grass, body wracking with sobs.

“Buck,” he whispered, pulling him in, “what happened?”

Bucky choked out, “I couldn’t save him.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sam woke up in a room with cement walls and (predictably) no windows, shackled rather unceremoniously to a pipe. He didn’t see why the cuffs were necessary; he was already in a cell, a menacing-looking guard standing on the other side of a steel-and-glass door. It reminded Sam of the Raft, and he began to feel nauseous.

Straining to get a better look at the outside, he called out to the guard.

“Hey, Terminator, any idea when y’all are gonna let me out of here?”

The guard turned, not even cracking a smile. “No, Sam Wilson, not just yet. We haven’t even gotten started yet.” Sam closed his eyes, trying to block out the images coming back into his head, of that stark white cell, the smell of the ocean all around them, Wanda wearing a shock collar with her eyes blank--

Sam shuddered, wishing for all the world that Bucky was there to anchor him.

He felt his cuffs release, but had a dreading feeling that this was as good as it was going to get.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

That night, while the SHIELD people were in the kitchen trying to figure out who took Sam, Bucky had a nightmare.

For the first time, Steve wasn’t able to help him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sam yelled as the taser struck him in the side, right over that bruise from earlier. He staggered, grabbing the pipe on the wall and pulling himself upright.

He cocked his chin at the man interrogating him. “That all you got, Terminator?”

The guard socked him in the stomach, and all the air flew out of him. Sam wheezed, gasping as he fell to his hands and knees. The guard knelt over him.

“Now, I’m gonna ask you again: _where is Captain Rogers_?”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Bucky stumbled out of his room, rubbing the dark circles he knew were still under his eyes. It had been three days. The nightmares wouldn’t go away.

Steve looked up from where he was conferring with Sharon and Agent Hill and hurried over to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “How you doing, pal?” he whispered, releasing him and leading him over to the table. Bucky shrugged. 

“Still hurts,” he whispered, and Steve sighed.

“I know, pal. I know.”

Sharon looked up as he arrived and gave him a small, sympathetic smile, reaching over and squeezing his flesh hand. “You wanna hear what leads we’ve got so far?”

Bucky nodded. “Sure.”

Hill pointed to a shimmering dotted line on a glowing virtual map of the surrounding landscape. “Our scanners were able to track the choppers as far as these mountains, about a hundred and thirty miles away, and then they vanished. We can’t tell if they enabled some sort of stealth mode, but they can’t have landed, because that area is highly inhabited. S we don’t know how much farther they went.”

Bucky furrowed his brow at the map. He knew that area. 

“Because they didn’t go any farther,” he announced, crossing his arms.

Everyone stared at him. “Care to elaborate?” Hill asked, scrutinizing him.

“Sure,” Bucky snarked. He whirled his finger, drawing an imaginary circle around the spot where the path ended. “’Bout ten miles from this town is what used to be a top-secret military base. We’re talking a better kept secret than Area 51; no one outside of the top tiers of the military knew about this place. Then,” he continued, “in the 70′s, Hydra infiltrated the place and completely wiped it out without _anyone_ knowing. They had enough people at that time that they could maintain appearances; running drills, flying choppers, the whole nine yards. And the people in town, who knew something was back there, never thought anything was amiss.” He stepped back. “My guess is that’s one of Hydra’s last big strongholds, and that that’s where Sam is.”

More staring.

Sharon pondered the map. “How did you know about this place?”

Bucky shrugged a little guiltily. “I...might have been part of the mission that wiped it out?”

“Jesus Christ,” he heard someone mutter, and he cracked a smile.

“We gonna go get him, or not?” Steve piped up.

Hill straightened up. “I’ll prep a team.”

“No!” Bucky exclaimed, a little frantically. Hill looked at him questioningly.

Bucky looked back with desperate eyes. “Let me do this.”

Hill narrowed her eyes. “Barnes, what with the state you’ve been in the past few days, are you sure you’re capable of taking on-”

Sharon cut in. “Maria!” Hill whirled around. Bucky shot a look at Steve, who looked half surprised and a little smitten.

Sharon looked steadily at Hill. “Let him take this one.” 

Hill looked back at him. “Fine.” She walked towards the gaggle of SHIELD agents crowding the living room. “Let’s prep, people!”

Bucky looked towards Sam’s running shoes, on their perch by the door. Waiting.

“I’m coming for you, Wilson,” he whispered.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sam sat against the wall, tucked in on himself, unmoving. Bruises bloomed uo and down his ribs and on his arms. The lights above him flickered. The guard stood on the other side of the glass, watching him. Sam didn’t meet his gaze. It probably meant another round with the taser.

“You ready to crack yet, Wilson?” The guard asked him. 

Sam squinted, inhaled shakily. Jerked his head once, to the side. 

“What was that?” The guard asked, mocking him. ‘Didn’t catch your words.”

Sam steeled his insides. “No.” He whispered, to the floor.

The guard tutted at him, and Sam could _hear_ his vicious smile. 

“No,” Sam said aloud, raising his voice a little, bracing himself as he heard the door whoosh open. 

Then he heard a scream, and his head shot up.

The guard seized up, then fell to the floor, a dart in his neck.

Bucky stood behind him in combat uniform, hair tied back, a casual smile on his face. “Figured I’d try going bloodless for this mission. Always good to try new things, y’know?”

Choking back a sob, Sam pushed himself up and took a _flying leap_ out the door, landing in Bucky’s arms and holding on tight. 

“You came for me,” he whispered into Bucky’s shoulder, feeling Bucky’s arms tighten around him, and felt him nod. 

“’Course I did,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “Missed you, Sam.”

_Sam._

Sam released him a little bit and looked him in the eyes. “You just called me Sam.” He grinned. “You used my _first name_.”

Bucky looked down, looking almost bashful. “Well, what else am I supposed to say? Want me calling you Wilson your whole life? We aint in Castaway, pal.” 

Sam laughed, a real genuine laugh, and looked at Bucky. Bucky, who had rescued him and drank the rest of the coffee in the mornings and was looking at him with an expression that might just be-

Oh.

“Aww, fuck it,” Sam muttered, and kissed him.

Bucky made a small muffled noise of surprise, then kissed him back, both arms holding him up, mindful of the bruises around Sam’s torso as he brought them closer. Sam dangled his arms around Bucky’s neck over his shoulders, fingers skimming the plates of the metal arm, and angled his head to deepen this kiss, sighing, never wanting to come back for air.

At some point, though, Sam actually did need to breathe, and they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, laughing breathlessly. Bucky looked at him, gazed up and down, and his forehead wrinkled with concern when he took a closer look at Sam’s bruised face. “How hurt are you?” he asked, reaching a hand up to skim lightly over the abrasions on Sam’s shoulders. 

Sam shrugged a little. “Pretty banged up, but nothing life threatening,” he replied. “Better now.”

“You’re a fuckin’ sap, Wilson,” Bucky muttered, burying his face in Sam’s neck. They had ended up sitting on the ground at some point; Sam wasn’t sure when that had happened.

“Gosh... four weeks ago I hated your guts, Barnes,” he chuckled, and soon they were both laughing, the sound echoing around the empty room.

Bucky sighed. “I like it better this way.” He looked up. “Don’t think this means peace, though, y’hear? I’m giving you shit forever.”

Sam laughed and shook his head, then allowed himself to be pulled up from the floor. “You know what? I think I can deal with that.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When Bucky walked down the ramp of the quinjet with his fingers firmly entangled with Sam’s, he pretended not to notice Sharon hand Steve twenty bucks.

He’d talk to him about it later.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Barnes, I swear to _fucking God_ , if you pretend to forget about the goddamn shoes _one more time_ -”

“Aw, c’mon, _crybaby,_ just pick ‘em up!”

Sam bent over and tossed the shoes onto the rack, wandering into the kitchen with Bucky tailing him. “I hate you.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Sam’s shoulder. “Nah, you love me.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah...”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

end. 

**Author's Note:**

> That was fun!  
> As you will always be able to, find me on [tumblr](darlingbvckyy.tumblr.com)


End file.
